The Other Side of the Story
by AmazingName
Summary: Anora and Isabela meet one dark night. Sex ensues, because this is Isabela. Now multi-chapter.  Formerly called The Queen and the Pirate.
1. Chapter 1

Anora sighed loudly as the heavy wooden door slid closed behind her. Her office was dimly lit, a few candles on her imposing desk casting the only light in the room. Shaking her head gently she attempted to dismiss the headache she had acquired during her day of dealing with countless nagging advisors. Sometimes she found herself hating Cailan for his easy dismissal of all state affairs. Of course, the few times he had tried to play the "Good and Devoted King" had ended in disaster. On one memorable occasion it led to a drinking contest with a dwarven emissary. Cailan had lost; badly.

The memory managed to bring a faint smile to her lips and she crossed the large room to stand behind her desk. Dim, yellow candlelight flickered across the piles of treaties, histories and trade agreements that still needed review before she could finally call it a night. In that moment the weight of it all felt simply crushing but she rolled her shoulders and reached for her chair. Then something caught her eye. The top right drawer of her desk was open, only by about an inch, but she rarely opened that drawer; it was always kept firmly closed. A frown tugged to edges of her mouth down and a small wrinkle appeared between her eyes as she let her gaze drift over her papers again.

Her frown deepened. A familiar old trade agreement sat atop a stack of new papers; it had no business being there. Reaching out she picked it up, recognizing it immediately. An agreement with an Antivan merchant to exclusive trade rights if she would provide naval ships to protect his shipments from a rather obnoxious pirate. The name of the man slipped her mind, but it was irrelevant now since the merchant had backed out of the agreement at the last moment. Anora narrowed her eyes as she looked at the old paper, a slightly fearful suspicion twinkling at the back of her mind as she considered how a failed agreement from over a year ago would have appeared at the top of her work.

Anora's eyes sparkled sharply in the dim light as she cast her gaze around the room, trying in vain to see into the long, dark shadows. Suddenly it occurred to her that perhaps there was too much furniture in the room: massive chests filled with paperwork dominated the far well while the outer wall was lined with shelves and armoires. Lots of big, clunky furniture to cast shadows, dozens of shadows to hide a thief or assassin. Without thought her hand fell to the open drawer and slid it open slowly, long fingers sliding into the drawer in search of the familiar stiletto she kept there. She was no classically trained warrior or rogue, but her Father had seen fit to teach her enough self-defense to keep herself alive long enough for the guard to reach her. When she had managed to avoid his powerful sword arm for over twenty minutes he had rewarded her with the specially commissioned, delicate stiletto.

Her fingers closed on empty air and she felt a faint flicker of fear. The frown on her lips turned into a scowl and she dropped her gaze to the drawer. Anora felt the flicker of fear return as she pushed her hand further into the drawer, trying to will the slender blade to materialize within her grasp. Lifting her head she glanced around the room and debated calling for the guard. The thought was dismissed as soon as it appeared. She would not allow herself to look the foolish, frightened woman if there was no one in the room with her. Appearances were all that mattered for a woman in the Royal Court, and she would not allow her's to falter simply because some papers were out of place. And her dagger was missing. Her brow knit in frustration as she considered her options again.

"Oh now, such a pretty face should never wear such an ugly expression," a deep, richly accented but decidedly feminine voice taunted from the shadows. Anora jumped, slamming her knuckles hard against the top of the drawer as she jerked her hand free quickly. She bit back a curse and turned slowly, trying to find the source of the voice. The room appeared as empty as ever. Bringing her hands together she gently rubbed her sore knuckles, feeling a bruise begin beneath the soft, pale skin. She let her face harden, willing herself to return to the coldly stoic expression she used with advisors or the nobles.

"What do you want?" Anora asked, a hard edge in her voice. The woman, whoever she was, must want something, besides the dagger, or she would simply have left by now. Another prickle of fear made the little hairs on the back of her neck stand up and she forced herself to swallow hard against the treacherous emotion. Why was she not calling for help? Her Father had always condemned her willful need to test the vagaries of fate by refusing assistance when it was needed. The voice, no, the woman, for surely she was just a mortal thief, laughed from the shadows. And then she materialized from the behind the edge of a tall bookshelf near the window and all thoughts of safety fled Anora's mind.

Anora felt her breath catch in her throat as the woman stepped further into the weak light of the candles. Never in her life had she seen a woman quite like this one. Her proportions seemed almost unreal, the impossible imaginings of a lonely adolescent boy. Seemingly soft, voluptuous curves tucked in tightly beneath her more than ample bosom only to flare back out to meet with her bountiful hips. Something told Anora those soft curves were more deadly than lush, but it did not prevent her from gaping in a most unladylike fashion. Dark, bronzed skin was beautifully offset by the brilliant shine of heavy jewelry around the woman's neck, wrists and dangling from her ears. Rivaini, Anora thought absently. That explained the accent. Anora tried to tear her eyes away from the woman's figure, but there was so much of it to see. The Rivaini woman seemed indifferent to the fact that so little of her was covered.

Blushing fiercely the Queen realized just how intently she was staring and forced her eyes to travel up over the thin, white belted tunic, past the woman's deep cleavage, to her face. She was not beautiful in the sharp, refined way that Anora was, but there was something deeply compelling about her. Perhaps it was the knowing smirk on her full lips; the smirk that made the heat in Anora's cheeks intensifies and forced her eyes further. Dark golden eyes looked back at her without an ounce of shame and the Queen could not quite meet them. Instead she looked at the rich black hair, secured beneath a green bandana that looked as though it was made of silk.

The woman seemed content to let Anora gawk for a bit, but Anora jerked her eyes back to the intruder's when she heard the woman clear her throat loudly.

"Now, now. I may not have many requirements, but I do enjoy a good introduction before we get to the more…" the woman paused as if considering her words, but something in her face made Anora doubt she really needed to think about it, "entertaining aspects of the evening."

Anora only realized that her blush had faded because it returned to her face full force. She never blushed! She was a woman of iron, always in command of her faculties. What in the Maker's name was wrong with her? Standing here ogling this woman like she was some fledgling boy of ten and four; it was downright shameful. Clearing her throat, she rolled her shoulders and leaned forward slightly, her hands pressing down against the hard wood of her desk. She realized this gesture brought her to eye level with the woman, the first time she had noticed that the thief was a few inches shorter than her. Meeting the amused golden eyes made pulse race slightly and she forced herself to focus. Now was hardly the time to develop some twisted infatuation. Of course, such logic did little to stop the familiar pull of pooling heat between her thighs. Maker's breath!

"Did you remove something from my desk?" Anora demanded, forcing herself to muster a glare for the Rivaini intruder. The knowing smirk never left the woman's lips and the Queen felt a faint surge of anger at the expression.

"Tsk," the woman scolded, shifting so that she stood with one hip cocked out slightly. Anora's gaze dropped briefly to examine the newly exposed skin of her upper thigh and hip before catching herself and forcing her eyes back to the woman's face. "You Fereldans are funny creatures. That was hardly an introduction." The woman shook her head as if in disapproval and walked closer. Once more the Queen's eyes dipped against her will, watching the wide sway of the woman's hips. A sailor; she would recognize that type of distinctive swagger anywhere. "I suppose I shall simply have to start them off," the pirate said with another smirk, stepping around the corner of Anora's desk to stand directly in front of her. "I am Captain Isabela," the woman said easily and gave a weak curtsy. "And my eyes are up here."

Anora almost jumped and jerked her eyes back up to the woman's face. There had been no anger in the statement, merely amusement. The heat rushed into her cheeks again and she shook her head violently. She was not some simpering maiden at her first dance to be blushing at every little thing. Of course, the only thing little about this Isabela was her clothing. Isabela gave her a teasing wink and Anora raised her brows curiously, suddenly a little worried again about where exactly this was going. If this was an assassination attempt it was proving blighted effective. Swallowing the sudden excess of moisture in her mouth Anora forced herself to look the woman in the eye. She would not simply give in to whatever _this_ was. She was the Queen of Fereldan.

"I am sure you already know, but I am Queen Anora Theirin née Mac Tir and I demand to know if you have stolen any-mph!" Anora's words were cut short when the woman closed the distance without warning and pressed a firm kiss to her lips. For a brief second nothing happened and then Anora softened the tiniest bit, her eyes sliding shut. The pirate's hands lifted to grasp her by the head and she felt her control slip even further as the tip of a tongue pressed against her lips. With a soft sigh she parted her lips and felt the agile tongue caress her bottom lip again before slipping easily into her mouth to tease her own tongue.

Only a concentrated effort kept her from moaning aloud and without thought she lifted her own hands to the Rivaini woman's biceps. Wiry muscle flexed beneath her strong fingers and she felt herself slip just a little bit further. Her own tongue returned the gentle caress of the other, drawing a pleased noise from the pirate. How long had it been since Cailan had kissed her like this? Months. She had not seen neither hide nor hair of Cailan since whispers of darkspawn forces building in the south had drawn him away from her and their bed with dreams of glory. Guilt filled her at the brief thought of Cailan and she whined faintly into the kiss.

Isabela must have taken this as a noise of complaint because she immediately broke the kiss and pulled away. A faint whimper of disappointment escaped her before she caught herself, remembering her husband. Cailan was unfaithful, that was no secret, but they did love each other and he did not deserve this. Turnabout was not always fair play. Anora opened her eyes to look at the woman, her tormentor, expecting to see disappointment, or anger, or any of the emotions she got from Cailan when she denied him. Instead she found the now familiar smirk still gracing those wonderful lips and an amused chuckle. Looking closer, confused, she saw a brief flicker of another emotion: lust.

Anora struggled to gather her thoughts even as Isabela reached for the ties on the front of her gown. Not once in her life had she considered taking anyone to her bed except Cailan. Well, not seriously anyway. She Queen, and before she was Queen she had been promised in marriage to the Prince of Fereldan. A Queen must be above all suspicion, especially a Queen without an heir. Plus, she did genuinely love Cailan.

All thoughts of King and Country fled her again when she felt cool air against her breasts. They were tiny compared to Isabela's almost excessive endowment, but they were firm and still pert at thirty-two. Glancing down she realized belatedly that her pirate seducer had managed to completely undo her bodice, the stiffly boned fabric pushed back against her arms and held there by strong hands. Lifting her eyes slowly to Isabela's she saw a decidedly wicked, but unmistakably hungry, expression on the woman's face. A shiver of delicious fear and delight ran down her spine and she found herself lightly biting her bottom lip.

The pirate reached for her breasts and Anora surprised them both when her hands snapped up to catch the Rivaini woman by the wrists. Isabela jerked her hands back slightly, but Anora held her tightly with surprising strength and it made the pirate look up at her questioningly. There was still a smirk on her lips. Maker did she ever not smile?

"I shouldn't… I cannot do this," Anora tried to sound firm, but the words came out as a weak whisper of protest. Even she could tell she did not mean it. "I am the Queen. I am _married_." Isabela chuckled softly.

"Of course you are, Sweet Thing," Isabela purred softly, leaning in between their hands to grin up at her. "But what is the harm in a little fun between two ladies such as ourselves?" Anora felt her insides quiver and a rush of heat fled down to pool between her thighs. Already she could feel moisture building there, along with the familiar tingle that just begged to be touched. She needed to be smart though, always smart, and never do anything without thinking. It was so hard to think with the woman leaning in so close to her, smelling of the sea and ale and sex. Or perhaps it was herself that smelled of sex right now. Clutching at straws, Anora pulled up the first excuse she had always kept handy for the prevention of affairs.

"I could… " get pregnant, she'd been about to say. But no, that wasn't really a danger in this case was it? Perhaps this woman, this Isabela, had the right of it. Maker's breath, why was she even considering this? She should be screaming for the guard. What was the harm in it though? Cailan would probably just be mad at her for doing it while he was away and unable to watch.

Anora slowly released Isabela's wrists and dropped her hands, stepping back from the woman. With a faint smile, her best attempt at a friendly flirt, she turned and backed up again until she felt her bottom come into contact with her desk. Glancing down at her bare breasts again she held out an inviting hand to the pirate. "All right then." She had been expecting Isabela's attention to return to her breasts, or perhaps her lips. Instead, the bronze skinned woman took her offered hand and turned it slightly, tracing a single finger over her palm.

"Mm, such strong hands. So many noble ladies lack such wonderful hands, your Majesty," Isabela purred and stroked her palm again, causing a faint shock of pleasure to run up Anora's arm. The Queen watched, still curious, and swallowed faintly. She had always felt self-conscious about her hands, ever-so-slightly to large for her slender frame. They were the hands of her Father, hands of a commoner raised to noble status. Though she would never admit it, she had always wished for the small, delicate hands of her noble-born ladies-in-waiting. "These fingers, so long," Isabela continued to purr, not bothering to look at her. "I can't wait to see what these hands can do."

Little spikes of pleasure rocked through her as Isabela lowered her head and placed a soft kiss on her palm, telling a completely different story about her hands. Isabela's mouth was as warm and soft as it had been in the kiss and the touch was oddly pleasing. And then her tongue traced over the patterns in her palm and Anora trembled with pleasure, a soft sigh escaping her lips. The pirate's tongue slid easily over her smooth skin, moving over her palm and down one finger until it rubbed against the sensitive tip.

Anora bit back a soft moan as her finger slipped into Isabela's mouth, feeling her knees go weak beneath her. Looking down at the enchantress sucking at her finger she found Isabela staring up at her but this time no blush rose to her cheeks. Instead she simply licked her lips slightly and let another soft, encouraging moan escape her. The intensity of the strange new feelings and the pirate's stare were too much for her and she left her eyes close again.

She barely noticed when Isabela switched fingers, save for a few brief seconds of sensation-free frustration. The Rivaini woman worked slowly over each finger and Anora could feel her arousal growing with each roll of her tongue. She would never look at her hands the same way again. When Isabela finally switched hands she felt a strong hand close over one breast as well and moaned, arching herself into the contact. Pressing forward she let herself wordlessly beg for more contact, groaning appreciatively when she was rewarded with the feeling of Isabela's calloused palm rubbing strongly against her stiff nipple.

Another moan escaped her and she opened her eyes, reaching out of the pirate with her free hand. Anora's long fingers, still slightly damp from the pirate's attentions, wove their way through Isabela's thick hair to cup the back of her head. Pulling her fingers from Isabela's mouth, she tugged hard on the woman's head, dragging her up and into a rough kiss. She bit lightly at the Rivaini woman's lower lip before sliding her tongue into the other woman's mouth without hesitation.

This finally earned her a moan from her seducer. She tightened her grip on Isabela's head and slid back slightly on her desk so that it was fully supporting her weight. The pirate's tongue pressed back against her own, dueling with her for control of the kiss. Anora moaned appreciatively and let her feet trace up the high leather boots that covered her companion's legs. Isabela growled into the kiss and Anora groaned back at her before finally submitting to the kiss, allowing Isabela's tongue to plunder her mouth.

The hand on her breast moved slightly, withdrawing while dragging fingernails over the sensitive flesh, drawing a hiss from Anora that was muffled by Isabela's lips. When Anora tried to press herself back into that skilled hand, she was rewarded instead with a pair of fingers closing on her nipple and tugging slightly. Her gasp was swallowed by the kiss, but she was forced to break it to draw in a shaky breath. Oh it had been far, far too long without this. Anora pressed eagerly into her fingers, craving more of the delicious contact.

Isabela's other hand, which had disappeared without notice, suddenly reappeared on her knee. Anora made a weak noise of surprise, opening her eyes to look down her own body at the dark hand now settled on her knee. She forgot about it when she felt Isabela's lips on her neck, soft kisses and swirling tongue moving over the pale, sensitive skin. The hand on her knee closed, gathering a bunch of fabric in it before repeating the motion, slowly gathering more of Anora's skirt. Anora could feel the skirt crawling up her legs but could not bring herself to care because the delightful fingers never left her breast and those lips continued to slowly trek down over her neck and chest.

Every inch closer that the pirate got to her breast was another several inches that her dress climbed her legs. A steady stream of encouraging gasps and moans echoed in the small room, Anora well past the point of caring enough to try to quiet herself. Her hands twitched uselessly in the air, seeking purchase on something but she could not focus her mind enough to decide on any one thing to grasp.

When Isabela's lips caught her exposed nipple at the same time as her rough-skinned fingers skimmed across the bare skin of her knee, Anora gave a strangled gasp and slammed her hands down on her desk. Those long fingers that Isabela had admired closed over the edge of her desk until her knuckles whitened. The pirate's soft, agile tongue swirled around and flicked over her nipple while that damned hand crept slowly up the inside of her thigh. At that moment Anora would have sworn before the Maker that there was nothing she wanted more in this world than to feel those rough fingers enter her.

Her eyes flickered open for a moment as her hips bucked eagerly forward, demanding that Isabela hurry her caresses or begging that she stop the teasing. She spared a glance down her own body to find Isabela staring up at her from her own breast, mouth fastened tightly around her nipple. The sight brought a pleading whine to her lips and her hips strained forward again. Cailan had never teased this long or quite so well, and she was slowly going mad from it.

Isabela's fingers were almost there now and Anora could no longer summon a single thought. Every fiber of her being was focused on those blighted fingers. Anora became acutely aware of just how damp her smalls were, how they clung tightly to her. A single finger slid over her slit, the barely-there fabric of her smalls the only barrier and she jerked like a puppet on a string. Her entire body was so tense now that she felt sure when she finally snapped she would break something. Isabela released her breasts but she barely noticed.

The pirate's hand disappeared for a brief second, but the Queen's howl of despair was cut short by its reappearance on her stomach, just above the waist of her smalls. Rough fingertips stroked lightly over Anora's flushed skin, sending little jolts of excitement straight through her. Anora whined piteously, begging without words for the pirate to finish her.

"Do you want something, Your Majesty?" Isabela teased, voice heavy with lust but surprisingly light in tone. Anora merely growled at her, squeezing her eyes shut again to avoid having to look at the smug, victorious look on the pirate's face. "I suppose you think I shouldn't tease you so." Anora snarled again.

"I won't beg," she managed to groan, the words managing to sound a lot like begging despite her protest. The pirate laughed at her.

"No. That would be unbecoming of royalty." For a brief moment, Anora feared that Isabela would simply leave her wanting, but then the pirate's hand slid smoothly and quickly beneath the waistband of her smalls. Two fingers entered her suddenly, causing her breath to catch in her throat. There was no pain, but the suddenness of it had both surprised and pleased her. Without a moment of hesitation Isabela began to slide the two fingers in and out of her with lazy skill. Anora's hips jerked spasmodically in response, trying to match the pirate's tempo. Isabela laughed again and easily changed her rhythm every time Anora tried to match her.

Finding her voice, and her breath, Anora gave a frustrated groan and forced her hips to remain still on her desk. Isabela laughed and pressed the heel of her hand against the Queen's clit, eliciting sharp barking sighs from her. Anora felt like a powder keg, little sparks going off inside of her that clouded her brain and drove her mad. Everything that she had was focused on the hand between her legs, wanting so badly to grind herself against the rough skin of Isabela's hand. Finally the fleeting strokes against her clit became too much and she arched her hips again, seeking longer contact. Her long fingers tightened on the edge of the desk until they ached.

Isabela laughed softly again and avoided her attempts for a few eternal moments. When she finally conceded and pressed her thumb firmly against Anora's clit, the Queen almost shouted from the sheet joy of it. Her orgasm was building rapidly, spreading like a fire in her veins. The pirate's thumb skillfully circled and brushed her clit, driving her closer and closer to the edge. And then she was there.

Stars burst behind her eyes and she could not be sure she had not screamed. Anora's hips jerked wildly, Isabela's hand staying with her easily. Waves of pleasure radiated through her body for what could have been hours before she stopped and slumped limply on her desk. She had never had an experience quite like that before. Orgasms were usually gentle and peaceful for her, but she found herself quite liking it this way as well.

Little aftershocks of pleasure were still rocking through her when she felt the pirate pull her hand away. Lifting her head slightly she blushed dark scarlet when she saw the pirate lift those wonderful fingers to her own mouth and suck them clean. Her own fluids ran down her legs as she attempted to stand and reach for the pirate. Isabela dodged easily and moved toward the window. Anora frowned but found that her legs were still a little weak and did not quite dare to follow.

"Well," Isabela broke the silence as she pulled her fingers from her mouth, "that was something. Believe me, sweetness, I would love to stay for more, but I have to see a man about a dagger."

"You are leaving?" Anora asked, a little surprised at the hint of longing and disappointment in her voice. "Already?" Already her high was winding down and the logical part of her mind was taking over again. She should be happy Isabela was retreating so quickly, it meant she was less likely to be caught out.

"Aww, don't worry, lovely," Isabela purred, moving even closer to the window. "I'll come back." The pirate reached up and grabbed the heavy tapestry that served to keep out the damp sea air and foul city odors. Pulling it away from the window she climbed into the narrow space, her outline becoming stark against the dark night sky. "You still have to show me what those glorious hands of yours can do."

Anora did not know what to say to that so she simply watched wordlessly as Isabela disappeared through the window, the tapestry quickly falling back into place behind her. A strange sense of loss filled her and she dropped into her chair heavily. She stared at her desk, at the small pool of dampness and the mess of papers that were the only witness to what she had done. Oddly enough, of all the emotions running through her right now, regret was not one of them. Maybe she would regret it next time. After all, the pirate had said she would be coming back.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Okay, so I now I said this would probably be up next week, but this little story has become a complete zombie, so I had to write more of it before I could focus on studying. So here is Chapter 2.

I had originally planned to wrap up the story with Chapter 2, but as you will see, this story has run away with me. Don't worry, there will be more to come. What originally started as smut with a dash of plot, has decide it wants to be a real story with smut instead. I hope you like it.

Strange, horrific sounds echoed off the cold stone walls; wordless grunts and savage growls, inhuman in both sound and character. Every few minutes the air would split beneath the weight of an all too human scream or the shrill, pained howls of mabari hounds. Anora found herself curled again the wall, knees drawn up to her chest and encircled by bare arms, counting the seconds between the cries that she took for death rattles just to keep her sanity. It was an old trick her Father had taught her when she was still just a girl, frightened by the earth shaking storms that would roll in off the sea in Gwaren.

The fighting had been growing steadily less fierce, if the increasing gaps of near silence between screams were anything to judge it by. Still, the once silent lulls were increasing in volume and clarity; more and more she could hear the distinctive individual grunts of the beasts themselves as they searched the place. That told Anora two very important things the attackers were growing ever closer to her location and there were precious few or no guards left to defend against them. She was still ticking off seconds in the back of her mind, but when she finally reached ten full minutes without interruption the last of her hope died. It was just her and the darkspawn now.

Anora felt a very real prickle of fear and closed her eyes tightly. Not even when she faced down a victorious Alistair and his little Cousland flunky had she felt such fear. Perhaps it had been foolishly stubborn to not bend a knee, to refuse to swear fealty to the new King and Queen of Fereldan. She could be safely tucked away in her family's home in Gwaren now, instead of trapped in this dank, empty cell. Anora let her eyes flicker over the depressingly empty space once more, as if she could make something useful appear where nothing had been before.

There was no such luck. Alistair's altruism toward her had extended only to sparing her life. Once she had arrived at Fort Drakon there had been no special or gentle treatment waiting. She had been made to strip herself of her fine, warm clothing and replacing the soft garments with a roughly made knee-length tunic and thick stockings for her feet. A single guard, a young and somewhat awkward man, had led her to the cell that was to become her new home. Whether he intended it or not, she had heard him mumble to himself that it was the same cell the Wardens had been imprisoned in. She wondered if Alistair or Jaine had asked for that specifically.

The cell was completely empty, shockingly devoid of even a small cot or make-shift bed. Jaine Cousland had arrived the day after her imprisoned, as daring as any of the Couslands had ever been, and tried to talk to her. Anora had willfully refused, still too proud and hurting, and ultimately the young Queen-to-be had simply promised that she would see the cell furnished with a suitable bed for her before leaving. That had been several days ago now and, even before the darkspawn attack, it had become glaringly obvious that she was not a priority in anyone's life anymore. Anora shifted, attempting to dismiss the petty thoughts, but the now familiar stiff pain in her joints reminded her that they were all she had now. She would not even have that soon; her cell would soon become her tomb.

A loud clash of metal on the other side of the heavy door across the room made her head snap up so sharply it connected with the solid stone behind her. Stars burst behind her eyes and she gasped in pain, lifting a single hand up to soothe the soreness while she stared at the door. A fight meant survivors, surely. It was not logical for darkspawn to fight amongst them, at least not now, with an Archdemon to give them purpose. Survivors meant hope for her, perhaps. That was provided that the darkspawn did not kill them all. Still, she could not peel her eyes away from the door and began silently counting seconds again.

Anora had reached forty-six seconds when the doors burst open and a mob of darkspawn poured through. She pressed a fist to her mouth to hide the scream that immediately rose in her throat at the sight of them. There must have been twenty of the monstrous creatures, with their haggard bodies and skeleton like faces, and the smell of them. Even more than the impossibly horrific features, the deep, clingy scent of death, decay and blood seemed to roll off of them in waves. It hit her almost like a blow and she had the sense that she might never wash it away completely. Anora shrunk back against the wall tighter, loosening the fist in her mouth to allow her long fingers to clasp over her mouth to keep her silence. Perhaps they would not notice her if she was silent enough.

It took her several minutes to realize the darkspawn were not searching for anything, they were still fighting. Only when she recognized the signs of combat did the sound of ringing metal return to her ears. The mob was ringed around a group of survivors, two of them wearing the distinctive helms of the guards. A third was only distinguishable by the flares of light that escaped from a mage's staff, lifted high into the air. There must be an archer with them, she realized, when a single darkspawn staggered away with an arrow lodged deep in its chest. So that confirmed four survivors. That was far from a comfort though, as she realized there had to be at least twenty darkspawn still in the mob.

Suddenly the darkspawn mob broke on one side and Anora was able to get a better look at the fighters. The guards were the first to appear, one swinging a heavy two-handed great sword with a disquieting amount of ease while the other pounded back the horde with a tall shield and light sword. She recognized the signs of classically trained warriors and felt a faint rush of premature relief. A third figure followed them, working closer to her cell, but she was unable to get a good look at the agile fighter. Daggers glinted in the faint light as the smaller figure spun and whirled without pause from one target to another, leaving behind only a trail of falling blood and dying groans. The archer and the mage, both men she could not see, stayed further back, raining down pain on the mob that had now been sufficiently distracted away from them.

Anora watched silently as the fight played out before her, marveling inwardly as the darkspawn numbers slowly dwindled while none of the survivors fell. They were not fighting as a cohesive unit, she noticed, but that did not seem to stop them from slaughtering the monsters with efficiency. In particular, the rapidly moving figure – Anora decided the individual must have had rogue training – was continuing to dominate the field in aggressive fashion. The shorter figure almost seemed to dance from one side of the fight to the other, occasionally popping up behind a foe to thrust a dagger through the back of their chest or severe the head with a quick slice. If it were not for the horror and uncertainty of the situation, Anora would almost classify the fighting as a thing of great beauty. It was almost poetic the way the fighter moved.

And then, after what felt like only a few scant minutes, the last of the darkspawn fell, still spurting blood from a large wound in its stomach. The two warriors relaxed immediately, heavy swords dipping to strike the cold stone floor with a metallic clang. Neither the archer nor the mage fully relaxed, turning almost imperceptibly to watch the guards. They were not together then, or at least had not been before the darkspawn forced an alliance of sorts. But Anora only registered those things in the very back of her mind, because the rogue had finally stopped moving and she could not tear her eyes away from the fifth fighter.

Anora easily recognized the smooth flaring curves of the woman's body immediately, even hidden under the lightweight leather tunic the pirate wore. The dark, slightly bouncy hair secured beneath a black silk bandana; it had been green the last, and only, time she had seen her before. Those Maker blessed legs, strong and muscular, were still devoid of pants or armor, covered only partially by the thigh-high boots she wore. The figure bent, offering both Anora and the two guars a full view of her backside, and pulled a grime covered dagger from a darkspawn skull. Shaking the blood from the blade the former Queen watched as the pirate turned – that damnable smirk ever present on her lips – and appraised Anora within her cell.

"Ah, Anora, just who I was looking for," Isabela purred, sauntering closer as she hooked her blades to her back so that the hilts framed her face. Anora felt her mouth drop open even as her hand slid away from her face. She could not remember a time in her life when she had ever been completely without words; words had always been her favorite weapon and so she kept them at the ready. For the life of her she could not make her mouth work, could produce no sound. The fallen queen watched in shocked silence as the pirate strolled easily up to the prison door, disappearing behind it, as if nothing was odd about her appearance here. A faint sound of metal scraping on metal echoed off the stone as the rogue picked the lock on her cell.

Forcing herself to draw a breath, Anora blinked hard several times in succession. This had to be the work of a demon, or perhaps a simple panic induced delusion. The pirate had appeared only once in her life, almost two full years ago; there was no reason to believe Isabela would show up now, just when she was more in need of help than she had ever been. Something clicked loudly in the lock and Isabela made a pleased noise as the handle twitched. Anora could feel her heart pounding in her throat as the door slowly slid open, scraping noisily against the stone floor. And then it was open and she found herself staring at the pirate again, unable to move.

"Isabela," she muttered breathlessly. "What are you doing here?" Isabela stood casually in the doorway, one hand resting on an out-thrust hip with her lock picks dangling from one finger. That same smirk she seemed to always wear was on her lips, but it seemed oddly welcoming now. Anora caught a glimpse of thigh and realized the pirate was wearing the same, or at least a similar, long white tunic that fell just below the tops of her thighs but it was mostly covered by the leather jerkin she seemed to think was sufficient armor. She was unaware that she was staring until she heard Isabela clear her throat and forced her eyes back to the pirate's face.

"You Fereldans, always ogling and never doing anything about it. Sadly, now is hardly the time. You would be better served by getting up off that floor, sweetness." Anora flushed brightly, both at being caught staring and at the thick sensuality that oozed from the woman's every word. She climbed quickly to her feet, the short tunic riding up her thighs as she did so. Already pink with embarrassment, her cheeks darkened noticeably and she forced the tunic down, acutely aware of her exposed legs. Never in her life had she worn something so short, at least not in front of so many. Cailan had a fondness for her to wear short chemises before bed, but that was completely different. The blush still dark on her cheeks she smoothed the rough fabric as much as she could, looking up at Isabela again.

The pirate's eyes were frankly appraising her bare legs, a look of intrigued fascination and hunger in her eyes. It made something flutter in Anora's stomach and she found herself pleased that she could still elicit such a look from someone at her age. Not that thirty two was exceedingly old, she forcibly reminded herself, but she was hardly a blushing maiden anymore. Forcing her own eyes away from the pirate she found that the archer and mage seemed unimpressed or completely disinterested in her. The two guards were another story however, their hungry gazes matched Isabela's but instead of pleasing her, they frightened her a little. That pleasant flutter in her stomach immediately stopped, but she refused to look away from them. Men had looked at her thusly before and all it had taken was to catch their eyes with her own sharp gaze to dissuade them.

It was the younger guard who noticed her returned scrutiny first, glancing up to meet her eyes only to blush and look away. He looked embarrassed and Anora realized she recognized him. This was the same young man who had led her to her cell those long few days ago. Apparently the awkward shifting of his compatriot broke the focus of the elder warrior, who looked up first at his colleague and then at her. He met her gaze without hesitation and Anora swallowed nervously. It was not desire that burned in his eyes but a predatory anger. The look made Anora realize just how very vulnerable she was right now, alone and barely clothed. Swallowing the fear he made boil in her belly, she lifted her chin the slightest bit and straightened her spine, pulling herself up as she had always done while holding court. Just as she was about to speak, Isabela broke the silence first.

"Well, there will be plenty of time for introductions later. This would be a good time to be leaving." Isabela's smirk deepened as Anora met her eyes and the pirate stepped back from the doorway. The pirate turned her gaze to the archer and mage, nodding slightly at them. Anora watched as the archer nodded and turned his focus to the warrior's. It was a tiny movement, easily missed, but obvious to her after so many years spent watching masters of deception at court. The slightest movement could reveal someone and she was an adept at catching those little cues. It was clear the archer and mage were with Isabela, although the archer was wearing a ragtag set of chainmail over a tunic the same as her own.

Anora moved slowly to follow Isabela, eyes still carefully locked on the two guards. When she was almost through the door the elder guard stiffened and shifted his shield, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. She froze instinctively, not daring to risk setting off an attack she had no hope of defending right now. Everyone in the room seemed to tense for a moment, as if waiting to see exactly what was going to happen.

"You cannot mean to free her," he growled at them, his gaze flickering briefly away from her to Isabela; or, more accurately, to where Isabela had been standing. The moment his mouth opened the pirate had moved crossing the distance of between them in a flash of leather and light as one of her daggers was pulled free. Before Anora could even register what the Rivaini woman was doing, she had already done it. Isabela stood behind the warrior, pressed against his back with the point of her dagger digging into the sensitive spot of his neck just above the collar of his armor. The guard seemed as surprised as Anora, an audible sound of fear just barely suppressed behind his lips.

"Of course I mean to free her," Isabela purred dangerously. Anora was reminded of how soft that same sound had been in the privacy of her office, how very different it sounded now. The younger guard shifted, moving to lift his sword to aid his fellow guardsman, but a soft disapproving sound from the mage brought him to a standstill. He cast his eyes about nervously, first at the mage and then to Anora before looking back at Isabela. "You did not think I would expend so much effort, risk so much danger, just for _him_ do you?" The pirate gestured at the archer, who Anora noticed belatedly had strung an arrow into his bow and stood ready to release it on the first person to move wrong. A wry grin on the man's face told her that he was confident in his place with Isabela and took no insult in the words.

"This bitch and her Father killed King Cailan!" The guard snarled angrily, shooting a hateful glance at Anora.

"I did not kill my husband!" She shouted at him before she could stop the words from leaving her mouth. Isabela spared her a curious and amused glance before pressing the dagger into his neck until a single bead of blood welled on the tip. He swallowed audibly and Anora could read the fear on his face as plain as day.

"Your objection has been noted." The sarcastic warmth of the pirate's voice had been replaced with a deadly chill that sent an unpleasant shiver down Anora's spine. The characteristic smirk had fallen as the dark haired Rivaini woman turned her golden gaze on the other guard. "Your friend here has chosen his side, and rather poorly at that. Do you wish to lodge a complaint regarding my actions as well?" Anora watched as the young man looked pleadingly from one member of the group to another before finally setting his hopeful gaze on her. For a brief moment she felt a pang of pity for him; then she remembered this man would likely have left her here to die without a second thought had Isabela not intervened. With all the skill of an experienced ruler, she hardened her features. Finding no hint of rescue, the young guard turned his gaze back to Isabela.

"No, Ser," he said meekly, a tremble in his voice. "I just want to get out of here alive, same as you folk." He was carefully avoiding his defeated compatriot's gaze and dropped his eyes to the floor. He looked for all the world like a beaten puppy. Isabela shot him a disarming smile.

"Ah now there's a good boy," she said softly, that sultry tone back in her voice. "Now step aside so the lovely lady can exit that horrible cell." He nodded rapidly and nearly jumped to get out of Anora's way. She offered him a small but distant smile and walked through the doorway, careful to stay well away from the guard Isabela held prisoner. When she stopped just outside the door frame, Isabela gestured with her chin to the archer and Anora moved to stand beside the man. Only when she stood beside him and realized she could see clean over the top of his head did she realize just how short and stout the man was. He did not appear to be a dwarf, although Anora found herself wondering if he could be one of the fairly rare dwarven halflings she heard about.

"Drop your sword or die now," Isabela commanded of her captive, turning her golden eyes back to the captive she remained pressed against. The guard grumbled loudly, shooting a hostile glare at Anora and then at his former colleague as he released his sword. With a deft shift of her foot, Isabela kicked it away from them and then twisted, moving with flawless grace until there were several feet between her and the guardsmen. The pirate kept her dagger up pointed straight at his chest. With her arm fully extended the tip still nearly touched him. "Now, into the cell with you."

The man actually gaped at her and for a long moment Anora was afraid he would refuse. She found herself deeply impressed by the way the pirate was handling herself, and the men around her. Isabela possessed a seemingly flawless confidence in her abilities as a fighter, just one of the arenas of life that Anora lacked confidence. The Rivaini woman pulled her second dagger and gave it a lazy twirl which seemed to prompt the guard to follow her commands. Without turning his back to them he raised his arms out to his side in a show of defenselessness and backed carefully into the cell, stopping only when he realized he was roughly centered.

"There. Happy now, bitch?" He growled. Brave words, or foolish, considering he had only his armor and shield to protect his life now.

"Not quite," Isabela smirked and glanced at the short archer standing next to Anora. The man made a gruff noise and loaded an arrow into his bow again, pulling the string back almost to his cheek as he lifted the strong bow to watch both the guards. Isabela turned her gaze back to the captive man. "Strip. All of it, right down to your small clothes. Throw your armor and padding to your little friend her. Resist me and I'll strip them from your corpse."

Although the man spared Isabela another hateful glare, much to Anora's surprise he began to slowly undo the buckles that held most of his armor in place. First came his gauntlets, which his companion easily caught and placed on the floor. Next came the heavy helmet, followed by the solid chest piece which he placed on the floor and lightly kicked to the doorway instead of throwing. When he began unbuckling his heavy belt that held his chainmail tunic tight at the waist, Isabela turned her focus to Anora.

"Don't worry, sweetness, we'll have you some protective gear in no time," the pirate said easily, a teasing tone in her voice as she swaggered her way up to the tall blonde while putting her daggers away again. Anora felt her pulse race suddenly, heart pounding in her ears, as the pirate drew close. The sound of armor hitting the floor slowly faded away as Isabela stopped in front of her, smirking as her gaze slid blatantly over the flimsy tunic that concealed most of Anora's body. Anora could not remember anyone making her as anxious as this woman did right now, not even Cailan on their wedding night had made her heart race so. Well, not without even touching her at least.

With little warning the pirate reached up and grabbed her by the back of her head. She let herself be pulled down into a searing kiss, the pirate's lips hot and soft against her own. Before she could react Anora felt the tip of Isabela's tongue pressing insistently against her lips and sighed softly, her lips parting. That agile tongue darted into her mouth, tasting of smoky sweetness and whiskey. Anora moaned softly and pressed into the kiss, bringing her hands up to grasp eagerly at the pirate's hips. She tried to press even closer, until the only barrier between them was their clothing and it made her groan faintly with frustration. Her eyes slid closed and she let herself get lost in those warm, insistent lips.

As quickly as Isabela had begun the kiss, she ended it, releasing Anora's head and stepping away. A pitiful whine escaped Anora and she tried to keep her grasp on the rogue, but her fingers slid away from Isabela's hips all too easily. Opening her eyes she realized that both guards were now staring at her, slack-jawed. A blush started to rise to her cheeks, embarrassment blooming inside of her, but she managed to quash it, straightening herself instead and fixing them with a cold glare. Isabela laughed and glanced at both guards before turning back to Anora.

"Just wanted to remind you that I remember our little… arrangement, Your Majesty." Anora opened her mouth to correct her before realizing that the pirate was teasing her. Now a faint blush did rise to her cheeks. She had not been teased by anyone since she was a child and found it oddly welcoming. With a shake of her head she turned her gaze back on her new companions again. It took her a moment to realize that the guard in the cell had finished stripping down to his small clothes. Isabela walked over to the pile of armor now and smiled. The only thing the guard kept with him was his shield, which lay discarded at his feet.

"That was smart of you. Now you just might survive, if someone comes in time." Isabela reached for the handle on the door and Anora rushed forward to stop her, placing both hands over the pirate's.

"No." She said quickly, glancing down at the pirate. Isabela looked guardedly curious, but made no move to push her away. "Get his shield from him as well, I can carry it."

"You wish to carry a shield?" It was the archer who spoke, not Isabela. His voice was rough and deep, but there was no mistaking the complete disbelief in his tone. Isabela gave a faint roll of her eyes and Anora removed her hands from the door handle, turning to face the short man.

"Yes, I do," she said simply, that imperious edge she had so often used at court in her voice. "It has been some years, but I was trained in the basics of using all standard weapons of war. If I'm to wear his armor to protect myself, why should I not carry his weapons to kill with?" Anora stared down at the man over her nose, not deigning to lower her chin. The archer simply shrugged and turned away, clearly bored now.

"There's that fire I remember," Isabela laughed and lifted her hand from the doorway, looking in at the prisoner. "You heard the woman. Your shield, now." The guard grumbled loudly again but placed his foot on the edge of his shield and kicked it toward them. Anora bent low and lifted it, a little surprised at how heavy it was. It had been over five years since she had engaged in any of her martial training; once she had married Cailan and her Father had decided it was not necessary anymore. This might not be as easy as she had thought when she spoke up. Steeling herself, she lifted the heavy shield and moved it out of the cell, setting it down against the bars.

Isabela pulled the door shut, the lock sliding closed with a loud thud. Without waiting for a prompt, Anora began pulling out pieces of the guard's discarded armor to wear. Much of it would not fit her, he was a large man, but the most useful pieces could be made to work. Starting with the thick, padded tunic, she began to pull on pieces. Over the padding she pulled on the chainmail and quickly belted it into place. It fell past her knees on her, so it would offer pretty decent protection. The plate mail she ignored, although she tried both his gauntlets and his boots only to find them far too large. Ultimately she wound up with just his helm – also too large, it wobbled precariously on her head – the shield and sword and the chainmail tunic.

"Well aren't you a pretty sight," Isabela purred, stepping close to her as she finished cinching the belt and running a hand over her chainmail clad chest. "I've never been much for a woman in heavy armor but oh, I think you've converted me." Anora blushed faintly and swallowed, lifting her head to look Isabela in the eyes. There was lust there, and a hint of mockery but no maliciousness. The pirate was teasing her, but it looked like she meant it. Before Anora could say anything more, Isabela dropped her hand and turned to the others. "Are we ready to go boys? The sooner the better."

All three of the men nodded, although the young guard spared a glance at his friend before doing so. Isabela smirked and sauntered out of the room, leaving them to follow dutifully. Anora waited until none were watching before she slid her arm into the shield's straps and hefted it up onto her shoulder. A soft grunt escaped her at the weight of it, but she set her face into a stone-like mask and gritted her teeth. They were all risking a lot here, whether it had really been for her benefit or simply a coincidence, and she refused to appear weak in the face of her own rescue. Palming the hilt of the sword in her other hand, she started after them. Freedom, or at least the pretense of freedom, was just a short march through the darkspawn away.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Sorry this chapter took so long to post. It came a lot harder than the previous two. My plan as of now is to wrap up this story (or at least get it to somewhere suitable for a long break) before November 1st. I've decided to partake in NaNoWriMo, so I need to be done with this before then.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Escaping the tower prison of Fort Drakon had proven far easier than Anora would have expected. If any guards still survived the darkspawn onslaught they were either well hidden or had long since fled. A few darkspawn had clung to life in the halls, but they had been quickly dispatched before Anora even had time to pull her sword. She was silently grateful for that, but any sense of victory or quick escape fled as soon as she followed Isabela's shorter frame through the tall iron doors.

The familiar cityscape of Denerim sprawled out before her eyes, although she had never before seen it from the steps of the tower. That familiarity was tainted by the angry red glow of flames and the faint sound of screaming and battle on the wind. Billowing smoke filled the sky, obscuring the sun and making it dark as night. Anora's eyes swept over the horizon before her, seeking out any sign of hope and finding none. From what she could tell it appeared the Alienage was already ablaze, as was the Market District. A rush of dread and horror flooded through her as she realized smaller fires marked the progress of the darkspawn toward the Palace District; toward her home. Tears welled in her eyes and she turned her gaze to her companions.

Isabela's lips were moving slightly and although Anora could not hear her words she could guess as to their nature. A dark, angry expression marked the pirate's normally seductive features. The long daggers that she wielded with such skill were spinning slowly in her capable fingers, her entire body tense. Not far from Isabela the mage and archer were talking to each other, both gesturing wildly with their hands to strengthen their opinions. Whatever they were discussing they appeared to be disagreeing. The guard was watching them as well. For a brief moment Anora met his gaze and was able to hold it before he looked away. Shaking his head the tall man turned and slipped back into the prison, seemingly unnoticed except by her.

"Balls," the dark skinned Rivaini pirate swore softly, breaking the relative silence. Anora snapped her focus back to her rescuer and frowned, finding the pirate staring at her intently. The fallen queen could have sworn she saw a hint of fear and indecision in those golden eyes before they fell away. When they rose again Anora had to fight back a smile of relief; there was an absolutely fierce determination in those eyes. Isabela flashed a cheeky grin and spun on her heel to face her fellows.

"Sketch! Edric! We need to move quickly. Standing around here is not going to get us back aboard the Siren's Call." Isabela's voice was sharp, barking the orders as naturally as any naval captain Anora had ever heard. Both men immediately stopped their quarrel and turned to face her, as if they did not dare ignore her. The younger of the men, little more than a teen by the look of him – or perhaps elven – had actually flinched at Isabela's harsh tone but the older, rough faced archer merely grunted and shrugged. Isabela shifted her daggers in her hands so that she could easily rest her fists against her hips without stabbing herself. "Any brilliant exit strategy for us Edric?"

"Shit," the man grumbled and Anora was surprised at just how deep his voice was. He seemed to deliberately avoid looking straight at Isabela for more than a few seconds at a time, his gaze instead transitioning regularly from the pirate captain to the dirt and the flaming skyline before returning. "I don't know shit about this place. Guards didn't exactly give me a guided tour. Best guess is to push straight through, shortest way to the docks." Before Isabela could agree – or perhaps disagree – Anora felt her own objection spill unbidden from her lips as she took a step closer to all of them.

"No. That is suicide." Anora dropped her free hand to rest on the hilt of her sword as she stopped at the edge of their small group. Isabela gave her a curious glance and Edric look a little put out. Sketch gave her a mistrustful look, but none of them made a move to interrupt her. She rushed to explain herself, wondering fleetingly why she felt a sudden urge to please Isabela. "We would likely engage the main body of the invading force that way. We would be better served to skirt around the city's edge using back alleys near the walls as a guide."

Isabela looked impressed and Anora frowned slightly at the vague sense of pride that filled her. She had been faintly concerned that Isabela would be put out at her contradicting Edric, but there was no sign of it on the pirate's face. For that matter, neither man looked particularly bothered by her interruption and she felt oddly pleased by that. Then again, she reminded herself, they both answered to a woman captain and were probably accustomed to women who spoke their minds. In spite of that knowledge, it made her feel better; it gave her the sense to perhaps these three people trusted her as an equal, or at least, close to an equal.

"That'll take us pretty far out of way, your Royalness," Edric muttered, the last words making her almost flinch. Anora considered correcting him, but decided against it.

"Yes, but the district in front of us is the Palace District. If this archdemon creature has any real intelligence, they'll either be heavily concentrated there or on their way to do so. Plus, they were amassing in the south, not the north," Anora stepped back and pointed to the southern gate, the flames there roaring so high into the sky as to be visible even from where they stood. She spun slowly, dragging her finger across the horizon until she faced north. "…so they are far less likely to appear in the northern districts in great numbers. Going out of our way may be well be faster than cutting straight across." Anora turned back to face them, a confident smile on her lips.

"I knew there was more to you than a pretty face and gorgeous hands," Isabela purred before casually waving a dagger at the two men. "We take Her Majesty's route."

"I am not-" Anora tried to interrupt the pirate, but was ignored.

"Ready to move boys?" Isabela asked, though it was clearly not a question. Both men had glanced at Anora when she attempted to interrupt but quickly returned their collective focus back to the pirate. Neither spoke, instead simply moving to prepare their weapons. Sketch, the slender young man Anora was increasingly convinced was elven, adjusted his hood back on his head slightly so his field of vision was wider and shifted his staff to his dominant hand. Edric simply grunted again – it seemed to be the dominant form of communication for the man – and pulled his pouch of arrows around to nestle safely against his hip before reaching up to unhook the bow he had picked up.

"Ready when you are, Captain." Edric said simply, the incredibly deep, rough sound of his voice still surprising Anora. Isabela turned back to Anora, an almost ridiculously confident smirk on her lips. Anora swallowed her nervousness and shifted, lifting the heavy shield back onto her shoulder. Every muscle screamed in protest, but she managed the move with only a barely audible groan of pain.

Steeling herself, Anora released her grip on her hilt as she moved away from the group and began to carefully pick her way down the stone steps. Blood and gore still clung to the stone, making the long descent treacherous despite the lack of foes. Isabela, Edric and Sketch followed; Isabela stayed the closest while Edric and Sketch maintained a safe distance of about twenty paces. It made sense for her to lead: she knew the city best and she was the _warrior_ with the shield. Besides, she was used to leading. That thought did little to quell the nerves fluttering in her stomach. She had never been called on to lead men and women into battle or even planned to do so. Glory on the field of battle had been Cailan's territory, little good it had done him. It had been his only are of interest when it came to governing.

They made surprisingly good time to the river, encountering only a few stragglers of the darkspawn horde. Anora had impressed herself and both men when she proved sufficiently skilled with the short sword and shield to kill a few of the beasts herself. Each time had made her want to retch, but there was nothing in her stomach for her body to expel. Isabela did not seem impressed, although there was definitely a pleased look in her eyes; and something else, a hint of lust if Anora was not mistaken. The very idea that Isabela was thinking about such things while they fought for their lives stayed foremost in Anora's mind as they made their way toward the bridge. Only the sigh of at least two dozen darkspawn idling at the foot of the short arch brought her mind back to the issues at hand.

"Maker's breath!" Anora exclaimed softly, stopping short only to feel Isabela collide with her back. No, the touch was too soft, even through chainmail, to have been an accidental collision. Maker, the woman was like nothing Anora had ever encountered, and now was hardly the time to be noticing that. Anora let her gaze move slowly over the crowd of darkspawn, willfully ignoring the soft weight of Isabela against her back. She was so very sore everywhere; her shield arm was almost numb from exhaustion, the fingers of her sword hand were seizing up periodically and the pain in her back defied description. It was foolish to think they would get out of the city without having to fight at least one large group of darkspawn, but that had not stopped her from hoping.

"Might as well get a move on," Isabela finally spoke up behind her. Anora turned her head just in time to see Isabela step away and fall in beside her. Reluctantly, she nodded and ignored the pain in her arm as she shifted the shield still higher so it covered the lower part of her face. "Sketch, Edric, separate and find high ground. Up on these low roofs here should suffice. Then I won't have to save your asses, again. Princess here is going to lure the beasties in and then I want to see it rain pain. Got it?"

Both men nodded and moved away, seeking their own ways to make it up onto the undamaged thatch roofs. Edric seemed to have an easier time of it, despite his greater bulk, as he simply grabbed hold of the lower edge and pulled himself up. Sketch attempted the same and sort of succeeded. There was a great deal more wiggling, grunting and scrambling in his own maneuver than there had been in Edric's. Once both men were safely balanced on their roofs, Isabela moved away. Anora watched her slowly disappear into the shadowy alcove created by the doorway of the nearest house. Only her eyes remained visible, flickers of light playing across them to make them shine. Anora drew in a shaky breath in an unsuccessful attempt to calm herself. Time to prove she really was a Mac Tir.

Exhaling her held breath she took a few steps forward, approaching the darkspawn carefully. A few turned their heads, seemingly taking notice of her, but made no move to approach. Anora lifted her short sword over her head and drew in another deep breath, holding it as she let her eyes slide closed. War cries had never been her strong suit, so she was going to have to improvise another away to attract their attention. Releasing the breath shakily, along with a silent prayer, she brought the sword down in a swift arc so that the flat of the blade clashed loudly against her shield. The vibration of the blow ran up both arms, making her entire frame tremble and she grit her teeth against the discomfort. As the metal clang filled the air, the darkspawns' inactive attention shifted and they began to advance on her position.

Anora backed away slowly, crushing the urge to drop everything and flee as quickly as her feet could carry her. When she was finally able to see Isabela's flickering eyes in the darkness she stopped; a quick glance up revealed that both Edric and Sketch were readying themselves. Edric had almost a full handful of arrows notched in his bow and Sketch's hands glowed with powerful magical energy. The darkspawn were approaching more rapidly now and she settled herself, angling herself so that most her body was behind the shield. She let her knees give, almost crouching down so that the shield not only covered her width, but also from knee to nose. Anora peered over the top of her shield as they closed in on her, letting her grip on the hilt of her sword loosen slightly. Her Father's words echoed in her ears as if he were there, whispering them to her. _Hold it loose, but firm. Too tight and every blow will hurt, too loose and you'll drop it. That's a girl._ It gave her strength, even as it brought the tears to her eyes.

As the first darkspawn crossed whatever imaginary threshold Edric and Sketch had set, the world around her seemed to explode. First came a rain of carefully placed arrows, all of them carrying with them a tiny flame and then came actual fireballs, raining down out of the sky as if the Maker himself had joined the fray. Anora felt panic swell within her for a moment before she regained control of herself. A darkspawn stepped within her reach and she moved with thought, adrenaline killing off the pain that had haunted each step so far. With surprising agility she launched herself forward, thrusting the sword out ahead of her shield. Darkspawn must not be terribly smart, because the blade easily slipped past its feeble defense and stabbed straight through the beast's shoulder. She and her shield quickly followed, slamming into the monster with all the force of her body and sliding it off the tip of her blade. It screamed and fell to the ground, where she ended its life with a quick stab to the throat.

Turning quickly she saw that Isabela had joined the fray, leaping and sliding easily around her targets as she brought them down with a series of well placed jabs. It would have been a breathtaking sight, if she had the time to appreciate it. Instead she returned to work, raising her shield just as another tall darkspawn hurled itself at her, both of its daggers trying to find a way past the strong metal. With grim ease she stabbed her own blade around the edge of her shield and was rewarded with a shriek of pain as the monster fell away. Looking up again she saw the pirate had stopped to watch her, an arrogant smirk on her lips. Isabela nodded and leapt away to engage another darkspawn.

The bodies for darkspawn were growing in number and Anora had to step over one to reach her next target, a shorter, heavy bodied darkspawn with a bow. It was not even looking at her, having taken shelter under the eaves of one roof in order to take aim at Edric. She raised her sword to cut the beast down with an arrow flew past her head to strike it between the eyes. Freezing in her steps she watched it fall to the ground and turned, sparing a brief glare for Edric. The man was standing on his roof, grinning at her triumphantly. Shaking it off she looked around for more darkspawn only to realize they were all dead already. Apparently she was not moving as quickly as she thought.

"Edric! Sketch! Get down from there! We need to move quickly before more arrive to secure that foot bridge. Let's get over it now," Isabela was back to barking commands, even as she bent low to wipe the blood from her blades on the armor of a fallen darkspawn. Anora did not bother, watching instead as Edric jumped easily from the roof and landed with something akin to grace. Sketch did more of a slow, slithering drop from his own roof before moving to stand next to her. His hood had fallen down completely during the attack and Anora was able to catch a glimpse of his ears; definitely elven then. That meant he could be older than he looked. Why that mattered to her, she had no idea.

Isabela did not pause this time, moving past Anora quickly toward the bridge. Anora fell in behind her, noticing that neither Sketch nor Edric hung back this time. The pirate was right; they did need to make it over that bridge before more darkspawn appeared. It seemed the archdemon did have something of a mind for battle strategy, if it was directing the horde to secure the bridges over the Drakon River. Still, the pirate was moving particularly fast and Anora found herself struggling to keep up as the surge of adrenaline from the fight faded away. When she saw the three of them stop at the top of the bridge she felt a rush of gratitude.

Until she saw why they had stopped. Waiting for them at the bottom of the bridge stood a monster that Anora would never have been able to imagine. At least twice as tall as a man and probably five times as heavy, it was a massive monster with wide, sweeping horns atop its head. It carried no weapons and wore little armor - covered only in what appeared to be some sort of loincloth, shoulder guards and a pair of gauntlets - but that did not seem to be a relief in the face of its massive size. The monster appeared to be sniffing the air, searching for something perhaps. When it turned to face them, Anora had to bite her lip hard to keep from making a sound. Its features were every bit as horrific as the other darkspawn, but at its size they were much more easily seen. Isabela backed up quickly as the beast took a step toward them, stopping only when her back met Anora's shield.

Anora could not tear her gaze away from the monster even enough to notice that Isabela had turned to face her. Edric had begun peppering the beast with arrows, probably hoping that he might be able to slow the beast. It did not appear to be working. Sketch cast something on the ground between them and the beast and it did slow, its steps suddenly cautious as it if was afraid to slip; must have been some sort of magical oil slick. Only when she felt something tug at her shield did Anora tear her gaze away from the lumbering beast. Isabela was tugging at her shield, trying to pry it from her arm but it only made her hold it tighter.

"Isabela, what are you-" Anora asked, barely registering the panic in her own voice.

"Drop it, Anora. Quickly if you want to survive." The pirate never looked up at her, reaching over the top of the shield to grasp at the latches that helped secure it to her arm. It felt like a very bad idea to give up her shield while a beast such as this approached her, but she felt her grip on the stiff handle relax. Isabela seemed to sense that she had done so and quickly pulled the shield from her arm, tossing the heavy slab of iron away as if it were nothing. Sketch quickly grabbed it and propped it up on the stone, crouching behind it while throwing spells over the top of it with one hand.

Anora was confused and reached down to smack at Isabela's hands when she felt the pirate reaching for her sword belt. She still held the sword in her hand, so the only thing she could come up with was the pirate must be attempting to disrobe her. This was hardly the place or the time, Anora thought, feeling herself well with horror and indignation. Still, Isabela's fingers remained insistent and she kept trying to slap them away, even as the beast got closer. Edric moved to stand behind her and Sketch abandoned his safe place behind her shield to join them. What in the Maker's name were they thinking? The damned thing was less than ten paces away now, still plodding slowly over the slick ground and roaring in fury at them.

"Isabela! Maker's breath this is not the time!" She swore at the pirate, who finally stopped. She watched Isabela glance back over her shoulder and curse loudly, dropping her hands.

"Balls. Keep it then. Can you swim?" Isabela almost looked frantic, and that worried Anora even more than the monster approaching. Throughout all of this she had seen Isabela angry, frustrated and, disturbingly, excited. Not once had she seen any sign of fear or panic. Whatever that monster was, it scared even Isabela.

"What kind of question is that? What are we going to do about that thing?" She gestured at the monster with her sword and when it roared in answer she could actually smell its foul breath. Oh Maker, she was going to die on this bridge. Die the deposed daughter of a traitorous fallen hero. Isabela grabbed her urgently and gave her a shake. "Alright yes! Of course I can-"

Her words were cut off by a harsh shove and then by the fall. Isabela had shoved her over the stone rail of the bridge. The fall seemed to take forever, even though Anora knew it could be no more than a few seconds. Still, she was able to see Isabela, Edric and Sketch follow her over the rail before she hit the water. It hurt, striking the swiftly moving water back first the way she did, but she had been surprised and unable to correct her body to land more easily. Still, swimming was something she was good at. She had grown up in Gwaren after all, a major port city and surrounded by breathtaking beaches that her Father had often taken her to during the summer months.

When her senses returned to her fully she moved easily through the water to right herself, using the flickering light of the fires on the current to tell her which was up. Gathering her muscles as best she could she kicked outward with her legs in an attempt to push herself to the surface. Anora strained, but could have sworn the surface was growing no closer. The current of the river was steady, but not nearly so swift that it should prevent her from reaching the surface. Only when she felt her feet strike the stone bottom of the river did she realize that it was not the current that was a problem.

Panicking she released the sword she still clutched in one hand, ignoring it as it too sank down to the stone. Reaching for the thick belt she scrambled to unlatch it, the panic making her long and normally nimble fingers clumsy. Without thought she let out a curse, the words escaping without sound in a large bubble of air. Shit. Clamping her lips shut tightly she struggled with the belt. It must have been made of a cheap material, because the water made it slick and hard to hold. Anora looked around in the dark, murky water franticly as she fought with it.

The belt finally slipped through the ring that held it tight and she would have collapsed with joy had the water not been there to hold her upright. Releasing it she watched the current carry it away for only a second before bending to reach for the bottom of her chainmail. She was growing light headed from a lack of air and her fingers were even slower now. Grasping the chainmail she started to pull it up and managed to get it all the way to her hips before she felt her lungs seize, demanding air.

Pain rippled through her chest and she dropped the armor, reaching for her throat even as her mouth gaped open in search of air. Anora could do nothing to stop herself from desperately inhaling the dirty water as a painful spasm wracked her body. Water flooded into her lungs and her body fought to expel it even as it sucked in more in a vain attempt to get air. She clawed vainly at the water, wishing she could somehow pull herself to the surface.

The edges of her vision began to close in and the lightheadedness grew worse. Anora grasped wildly, one hand still at her throat and the other flailing wildly seeking a purchase on empty water. A shadowy blur appeared just beyond the scope of her vision, but still the water grew darker and darker. So much for escaping death this way, she thought dumbly. A flicker of thought passed through her mind, something about Isabela that she could not quite grasp even as the shadow seemed to grow closer.

And then the entire world went black and she felt no more.


End file.
